Chapter 22. Before Maris
BEFORE: MARIS
Every altar in the city was piled with offerings, every temple filled with prayer. But it was too late for the gods to save us.
There was only standing room in the spectator’s gallery of the Forum, bodies pressed so tightly that the air was stifling hot.
It had been two days since the anonymously authored leaflet had circulated through the Citadel District, and now the copies that had survived the retribution of the Consul had made their way through the Lower City.
There was no stopping it now. The whole of Isara knew about the grain.
I’d had my ear pressed to the door of my mother’s study as she met with the highest-ranking Magistrates of her faction. She’d even allowed me to sit in on her meetings with Nej, and by the time the panic was flooding the city, a tribunal had been called to vote on changes to the dole.
The state of Isara’s fields had been kept secret from almost everyone in the Citadel, and both my mother and Magistrate Matius had been informed only in the early days of the most recent harvest. For three years, the fields had been failing, the procession of grain through the city nothing but a ceremonial performance. But now there would be a reckoning.
There was no question who would be the first to go hungry if the winds of fate didn’t change, but what no one outside the Citadel knew was that the time for intervention had passed. More important, it was clear the gods had spoken. Isara was being punished. But for what?
The secret getting out was maybe the most fortuitous thing that could have happened for my mother, which made me wonder if she’d been the one to distribute the leaflets.
It was a perfect chance to gain the favor of the Lower City, which had been her plan all along in her rivalry against Magistrate Matius.
More spectators pushed into the gallery as I watched the floor of the Forum below where the Magistrates would enter.
I pressed my hands to the marble railing before me, trying to keep my balance against the push of people, and when I felt a burning gaze find me, I looked down the gallery front to the face that was turned in my direction.
Luca stood almost a head taller than the men and women around him, his dark blue tunic making his eyes look like crystal. They were focused on me, his expression grave as the muscle in his jaw twitched.
I hadn’t seen him since the day news of the grain overtook the district, but the memory of that kiss was still alive in my mind.
That same burning sensation crept over my skin now, but it was followed by the acute awareness of the room around us.
We weren’t alone in the cove anymore. The last thing my mother could tolerate now was a threat to the power balance in the Forum.
And that was exactly what Luca and I were.
He moved toward me, wedging himself through the crowd, but the look on his face was guarded. Suspicious, even. He took the place beside me, his arm pressing to mine.
“Did you know?” His words were a breath.
I stared at him, offended by the question. “Did you?” I shot back.
The space between us was too small for the number of eyes in the gallery. He looked as if he was deciding whether to believe me. “I didn’t know.” He waited for my answer.
“Neither did I,” I said, turning back to the Forum.
The tension eased just a little, despite the roar of the crowd. I’d never seen so many people gathered for a tribunal. Even the streets across the river were full, and there was a palpable feeling of fear in the air. Like the city was holding its breath.
The door to the Forum opened and the first of the names was called out as the Magistrates streamed in.
Their spotless white robes rippled around them, the silence that descended eerily unsettling.
I’d attended countless tribunals in my life, and they were usually filled with the pomp and circumstance of highborn family leaders parading in front of one another.
But there was a noticeable timidness among them now that I had never seen before.
“Your uncle?” I whispered.
“I delivered his vote to the Consul’s scribe, but I don’t need to know what it says.”
The news that Magistrate Matius’ illness had finally bound him to his bed had now traveled through the district. According to my mother, he was only days away from death.
I, too, could guess what his vote was. Matius had never concealed his hatred of the Lower City and its drain on the city’s resources, so it wouldn’t be difficult for anyone to imagine that he would vote for changes to the dole that would favor the district.
His faction would follow, and it was predicted that even some of my mother’s faction could be persuaded, but the decision would require a three-quarters majority.
That, the Consul would never get. Not while my mother was a faction leader.
Keeping the state of the grain stores a secret had broken the political agreements between the Magistrates and the people in a way that had no easy remedy.
Corruption in the Forum was nothing new, but the implications of what was to come far outweighed the long history of half-truths and preferential treatment of the Citadel District.
Now it was only a matter of time before they were held to account.
“And Vitrasian?” I pressed. “What does she say?”
“She says too much,” Luca muttered. What he’d said before about his worry for the Philosopher was all over his face now. It carved deep lines between his brows.
Vitrasian was one person in the Citadel who’d known about the harvests, possibly for years. She’d been commissioned by the Consul to assess the fields, and her findings had been rejected. Now they’d been shared with the whole of the Forum in the deliberations leading up to the tribunal.
The last of the Magistrate family names was called out, leaving only one seat below empty—Magistrate Matius’.
Once the doors of the Forum closed, the crowd in the gallery pushed forward, trying to see the floor below.
When someone shoved into me, forcing me to brace myself on the railing, Luca’s hand came around me, fingers finding my waist. He moved me in front of him, but once I was pinned between him and railing, he didn’t let me go.
I stared at his hand, splayed across my hip, following the line of his fingers up his arm.
But when I found his face again, his eyes were on the Forum.
There was an intensity coursing through him, making the touch almost desperate, like he needed to anchor himself to something.
The crack of the gavel pulled my attention back to the floor, where the Consul was beginning to speak. The rigid set of his mouth almost muffled the words.
“I call this tribunal to order.” Again, the gavel cracked.
The silence fell quickly, the spectators almost holding their breath. Whatever happened here would bleed through the entire city, and I didn’t know what could come next.
The Consul stepped forward, hands clasped before him as he looked out over the Forum. “The purpose of this tribunal is to address the increasing deficiencies of the grain fields and the claims recorded in the unsanctioned release of reports regarding the harvest.”
The choice of the Consul’s words was concerning, making the stillness in the room expand. Referring to the leaflet’s contents as claims implied that it might not be true.
“But first, I stand before you today to account for the Citadel’s handling of this difficult situation.
” He let his gaze drift across the gallery, as if speaking directly to the people.
“Upon learning of the challenges in our fields, the Magistrates of this Forum made the decision to conceal the information from the people of Isara while we determined the best course of action.
“This decision was not made lightly. Our city faces its greatest threat since before the Old War, and after generations of prosperity and abundance, we find ourselves confronted with the unknown. But it is now clear to us that this lack of transparency has caused great injury to our people.”
The quiet room began to rumble with restrained agreement. This had been my mother’s fear. That the city would turn on the Citadel before a decision could even be made.
“For this, we owe the citizens of Isara our profound apology, and we trust that your faith in us will be restored.” The Consul’s voice echoed.
The silence swelled with whispers, though I struggled to sift a collective feeling from crowd that surrounded us. People were afraid. That was the only thing I was sure of.
I looked up, meeting Luca’s eyes. As heirs to seats in the Forum, we were both in the unfortunate position to hear everything not being said.
The puzzle of language used among the Magistrates was precise and intentional, crafted for a very specific purpose.
The Consul hadn’t called this tribunal to issue an apology.
My mother and Magistrate Matius hadn’t been shut away with their respective factions merely to quell the nerves of the city.
No, this Forum was laying the groundwork for something bigger.
“We enlisted the wisdom of the Citadel’s advisors, among them the Philosopher Vitrasian,” the Consul continued.
At the mention of the Philosopher’s name, Luca’s hand slipped from my waist.
“For the last year, we have been working with those advisors to identify the source of these weak yields and devise a solution. And now it is our duty to inform the citizens of Isara that, with the favor of the gods, we are well on our way to healing our lands.”
My eyes narrowed before I searched the Forum floor for my mother. Her face was calm and serene, her rouged cheeks sharp beneath her dark lashes. There wasn’t so much as a ripple beneath the surface of that look. But I could feel a change in the room, the sense of gravity shifting.